


Red Flags and Long Nights

by anthonyjamescrowley, Mr_Fell



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a bit of a bastard, Aziraphale is rich af, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Consensual, Consensual Sex, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is in University, Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Dom Aziraphale, Gets Explicit Fast, Good Omens AU, Human AU, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Not all the time, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Prostitution, Rent Boy Crowley (Good Omens), Roommate Newt, Sex Work, Sex Worker Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Sub Crowley, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Updating tags as we go, a massive angel dong, age gap, also quite a bit of fucking, client Aziraphale, crowley and newt are lads af, dom aziraphale, forgot that one oops, fucking while pining, heed the warnings, oh and, prostitution but it's not treated as a bad thing, rentboy Crowley, seriously heed the warnings, so much pining really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthonyjamescrowley/pseuds/anthonyjamescrowley, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Fell/pseuds/Mr_Fell
Summary: Anthony James Crowley's always been good-looking. When you're gay and in your twenties and a poor uni student in London, you may as well exploit that fact, right? And if you can get paid really good money to get shagged and rich older men shower you with presents, then, well... what's the downside? It's just a bit of fun... until it isn't, and you end up finding yourself falling for one of your clients.---I already know a little bit about you, Anthony,” A.F. confessed, speaking slowly, playfully down the phone. “You came recommended.""Oh really? How flattering. Something about what you heard made me tempt you, hmmm?""Well, it made me curious. I like to browse before I buy. Are you a natural redhead?"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 101





	1. Second Circle

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collab that we've been writing for ages, publishing under alt accounts. 
> 
> Potential triggers will be noted in the end notes for each chapter.

* * *

##### M. A. Fell tilted his head to make the little electronic letters on his screen stand out as sharply as possible. This was a first-time impression with a new potential playmate and his first time with this particular service; it simply would not do to mistype and come across as rude or uncaring. Aziraphale Fell counted neither of those among his particular failings.

His computer buzzed furiously as he typed in his answers to the form. He paid it no mind. Nor did he heed the short length of the little, demanding boxes into which he had to put his answers.

* * *

#####  _Ping_ went Crowley's phone.

"You don't have to pause it," he told Newt, leaning over to pick up his mobile from the secondhand coffee table (which was propped up by a cereal bowl turned upside down).

The notifications screen told him he had a new email - to his private account. Briefly, he set it aside and took a moment to light a cigarette, shaking out the match and flicking it onto the table. "I hate the word ‘agent’, 'm not in a fuckin' Bond movie. They should change it to something cooler."

He opened the email, gave it a cursory scan, and groaned. "Couldn't figure out the fuckin' calendar?"

Newton Pulsifer glanced up from his own battered phone. "Oi, Nags, can you not do that here, you absolute wanker? You know my parents are coming up this weekend, can't have the house reeking of smoke, you twat. And you love 007, we both know you do."

"Fine, I’ll open th-- here, I'll go outside," Crowley muttered, hauling up from the couch. "Oh here, this guy says he'll pay in cash. Good for him."

Newt sat up into a slightly less slouchy slouch. "Want me to pause this? And isn't that kind of dangerous? For you?"

"Nah I've seen it like fifty times. And... maybe?" Crowley pushed open the window and leaned out of it as he read through the rest of the email. "It's probably just another old guy with blue balls, though. Hey, what time is it?"

"Eurgh." Newt glanced at his phone's cracked screen. "It's 5:47. If this thing works for once. Why?"

"I could call him right now," he grinned. "Put him on speaker phone if you can stay fuckin' quiet."

Newt sat up actually straight and turned off the repeat of How I Met Your Mother, eyes widening massively behind his thick glasses. "What, right in here? In the afternoon? It's not even watershed yet, mate."

"Look, it says I can call... between five and six only on Wednesday through Friday. It's Thursday. I'm calling. Shut up."

Newt gawped at him in anticipation.

Crowley put in the number and hit the button to dial, then the speaker. The ringing was audible to both of them now, slightly crackly.

"Hullo?"

Crowley put on his phone voice, grinning wildly as he glanced at Newt. "Hi, I'm calling for an A.F.?"

There was a pause before A.F. replied in a deep, posh voice. "My. I must say, that was very quick indeed. If you are who I suspect you are. To whom am I speaking?"

"Yeah, this is Anthony from Second Circle? Ensuring prompt service is all, seeing as you wanted to chat first."

"Very good." The man on the other end dragged out the two words, dipped an octave lower before coming back up. "I thought we might get to know each other a little, although this call is more for your benefit than mine. A bit of security seeing as my payment methods are a little... unusual. You can rest assured I'm not one of those Russian robots."

Crowley laughed. "Well, I don't know if I can truly believe that until we meet, A," he replied, affectionate and completely insincere. "What can I do to put your mind at ease? I'm sure you have questions." He rolled his eyes at Newt.

Newt looked like a frozen but fascinated deer caught in the headlights.

"Well. I already know a little bit about you, Anthony,” A.F. confessed, speaking slowly, playfully. “You came recommended."

"Oh really,” Crowley replied, “how flattering! Something about what you heard made me tempt you, hmmm?"

"Well, it made me curious. I like to browse before I buy. Are you a natural redhead?"

"I am. You'll have to take my word for it for now, although we can always arrange for photos if that's something you're interested in."

"Oh, I should like that very much. No need to include your face. Now, this is very important to me, Anthony. Are you above the age of 20?"

"I'm twenty-four, and my birthday is in October, if you feel inclined to get me anything."

A.F. breathed a bit more heavily down the crackly line. "Tut-tut. Don't get ahead of yourself, dear. I'm not so sure I appreciate your tone; we might just have to do something about it."

Oh, Crowley thought, one of these. 

"Now who's getting ahead of himself?" he smirked. "We can negotiate that in person -- if I like you."

"Of course. Rest assured I will not want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable. And we'll have to find out if you fit my tastes too. I'm afraid I've developed a rather particular palette over the years. How long have you been with -" there was a pause and an audible shuffle of papers "- Second Circle, my dear?"

Crowley raised his eyebrows in Newt's direction at the 'my dear.'

"It was my one-year anniversary with them in February. Before that I was with another agency. Afraid I can't say which."

"Congratulations," the man quipped. "I wouldn't expect you to. Confidentiality is of utmost importance in your area of work. And it goes in both directions, as I'm sure you know. Client and agent."

Newt visibly paled.

"Of course. I saw you wanted to meet on Monday, would you like to see me ahead of time to see if I'm to your tastes? I can send you a photo - or if you don't want to pay for anything just yet I can arrange to be somewhere at a certain time and you can get a look at me without having to approach. How's that sound?"

"Oh, I would recompense you for your time even if we were to find that we were not a match, Anthony. I do not wish to waste anyone's time, photos will do. Front and back, I will pay accordingly."

"Are you on a mobile phone now, A? That can receive pictures?" Crowley had navigated to his phone's gallery and was flicking through recent pictures he had taken for clients.

"Send them on the email address through which I sent the form. And these are full nudes, I trust? If I'm paying for this service, I expect to be sent more than what I might catch a glimpse of in a public coffee house somewhere."

"Of course. Could you be a love, in your confirmation email from the company there's a link to pay me. If you'd send over £100 I'll email the photos as soon as it's confirmed. That's for the two," he added. "Of course I'll always take more if you like."

Newt, paleness replaced by a deep red flush, mouthed "100 quid?!" at him.

"Ah. Now there's slight snag. As you already read, I do not wish for my credit card details to appear in association with this type of service, at least not until we've become acquainted - rest assured, if we are to each other's liking, I may well be interested in a longer, more regular arrangement - but until then, I'd rather pay you in cash."

"Of course," Crowley said, disguising his annoyance. "Only I can't send them until I'm paid, I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, naturally. Although I would be willing to triple the payment..."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Just so you're aware, the agency will keep your contact details on file in case there are any problems, I'm required to tell you," he said, his tone overly sweet. "Now, you should have them momentarily..."

Newt mouthed a "what the fuck" at him for good measure, slipping imaginary dollar notes off his palms and on to the sticky living room floor.

"Oh, you're most kind. And I would expect nothing less. It will be a few minutes until my computer restarts and I can look at them. In the meantime, why don't you tell me what types of service you provide? Or don't provide, perhaps."

Crowley stuck out his tongue at Newt and wiggled it. "Certainly, A. If I'm accompanying you to any sort of event, be it dinner at the Ritz or the theatre or a charity event or what have you, you're required to pay for any expenses incurred, including any attendance fees, meals, and transportation to and from. I'll give you the Uber receipts for reimbursement and expect them within 24 hours. You can introduce me to whomever you like as whoever you like so long as you don't use my name. But I get the feeling that's not all you're interested in. Would you like me to go on, or do you want to wait until the photos come in to make a decision?" He took a final drag on his cigarette and stamped it out on the sill before exhaling out the window.

There was another wait. "They just did. I'm opening them up now, it should be just a minute or two. And I'm afraid I'm not planning on introducing you to anyone at all, Anthony, though we could certainly do the Ritz. Is that something you might be interested in?"

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. "That would be lovely, although you might have to take me shopping for the appropriate clothes first."

It wasn't that he couldn't afford to buy something fancy himself. It was just that if he could get someone else to, why should he bother?

The photos he had sent were both taken in mirrors, of course, as Crowley wouldn't dare ask Newton to help him out. They weren’t terribly professional, but most of the time his clients preferred it that way, he found. It appealed to their desire to feel like he was an amateur who needed guidance or some bullshit. As though he were an ingenue.

The front facing photo was of him sitting in the nude on his bed (the black sheets made a nice backdrop), legs slightly spread, cock hard and in hand. He was sitting at just comfortable enough an angle to get most of his thin body in the frame (there was a hint of abs but they were almost coincidental, they were hardly there on purpose), with his face blacked out with a little scribble (though his hair was still in view, as it had taken half an hour to artfully style).

The back photo was in a hotel bathroom, as the lads' bathroom was 1. small and 2. usually disgusting, littered with products and toothpaste flecks on the mirror and so on, and he stood with one leg cocked just enough to accentuate his ass, which was what he was most often complimented on. A gift, really. 

For a moment, nothing could be heard on the line. Then came a deep and heavy sigh, and Newt made a face at Crowley, stuck two fingers down his throat and pretended to hurl.

A.Z.'s voice came out increasingly gravelly. "Yes, I think you will do very nicely, Anthony. Although I must say, you ought to get some professional pictures taken."

Crowley grinned at Newt. "Well maybe that's what I'll put that three hundred pounds you've promised me towards, A," he said.

"Mmmm. Now, I believe you were going to tell me about which other services you provide."

"My pleasure." With a smile at Newt, Crowley departed the living room for the tiny back garden and took A.F. off speakerphone, putting it to his ear. London traffic could be heard in the background. "I just stepped outside for a moment, thanks for waiting. If we're talking strictly sexual, it's easier to tell you what I won't do, which only really boils down to no piss, shit, or vomit. Almost anything else can be negotiated."

"Language,” the speaker tutted. “But very well. Everything else has a price, then, I take it. ... I must tell you, Anthony, I find myself quite unable to look away from your photographs. Do you mind?"

"Why would I mind a thing like that? Now, can I ask what your plans were for Monday, if you're wanting to meet?"

"Well, I thought dinner might do nicely - and yes, of course I'll recompense you for travel expenses - and then, if things go well, a few hours of play time. Three hours all-in-all, four perhaps. I like to take my time. At a nice hotel, I thought. I'm afraid I'm not willing to buy attire for you yet - so I suppose the Ritz is out?"

"Afraid so, but don't worry, I'm not picky," he replied, grinning. "There's a base fee of two hundred pounds per hour and then anything else is extra, as I've said. Would you like me to do anything to prepare? You can choose my clothes, tell me where to meet you and how - that is, some clients like to set up a scripted ‘meet cute’ - in addition to the rest, which it sounds like you're familiar with -- if you want me to be fully prepared for you beforehand or not, that sort of thing."

A.F.’s breathing stuttered a little, though his voice came out immaculate. "Wear something nice and tight, whatever you think shows you off best. Though nothing indecent, I don't want you to make a spectacle of yourself while you're with me. At least not in public. I want you as clean as possible, please, yes, though not already warmed up - I would like to do so myself, I enjoy that aspect very much... I'm not certain you'll tell me the answer, but do you have other clients on Monday? If so, I'd like to arrange for us to meet as late as possible after the event."

"I don't, no, usually booked on weekends. I'm all yours on Monday. I should also mention you're expected to wear a condom. I'll have lube, gloves and so on. Is there anything else you'd like? I can email you an inventory of what toys I keep available. Anything else you'd have to provide."

There was a faint chuckle. "How do you know you're not going to be the one who needs the condom, dear?"

"Just a hunch," he teased.

"I think we will hold off on the toys for now. And of course I will wear a prophylactic. Are you on PReP?"

"A requirement of the agency," Crowley assured him. "'s in the fine print. We're also tested twice a month. You can request my health record through Second Circle."

"Very good. I am also on PReP. I was tested last week and I have not and do not plan to be with anyone else before Monday. I will bring my result, which was clean, and I would like to have a look at yours."

"I have one client this weekend, for transparency's sake, but without going into detail there won't be any fluid exchange."

"Thank you for telling me, Anthony." For the first time in their conversation, A. F. hesitated a little. "Now is the latter something which might be negotiated too? In safe, particular circumstances? Or is that a conversation for another day?"

"I'm required to tell you it's a hard no," Crowley said leadingly. 

There was a short, pregnant pause. "I see. I'd expect nothing less, of course. Very good." His voice let up a little. "What do you say to six o'clock at the Marriott by County Hall? I'll leave a key card for 'Anthony... Smith' at reception and book under the name Mark Wilde. Oh - and do you kiss?"

"If you're sweet to me, Mr. Wilde," he replied.

"Of course, Mr. Smith. Till then."

"See you at six." He hung up and had another cigarette on the balcony before going back in. He had an electric sort of buzzing in his skull, the same dopamine hit he got whenever he scored a new client he felt could become a regular. 

"What. A. WANKER," Crowley cried to Newt as he returned to the living room, sliding the glass door shut behind him. He affected the caller’s accent. "Of course I will wear a prophylactic!"

"Dude - tmi," Newt made a face and threw his long legs over the arm of his armchair. "300 pounds STERLING for two bloody racy pics?"

"Yeah, well, we'll see if he actually comes through. Even before anything else he's got a bill of 1100 pounds lined up already."

"Fucking hell. D'you think he wants some of my photos too? I swear I could go gay for that kind of dosh. I'll go take some right now, if I can get this ridiculous phone to work. You're buying, like, all of the loo roll for the next year at least."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, all right, that's fair," he snorted. "This guy is a pro, though. If I could keep him I'd have it made."

"A pro? I thought you were the pro, you harp on about it endlessly." Newt wandered over to the kitchen to throw the rest of his leftover chicken tikka masala in the bin. "And you're buying all our takeaway for the next month, I lost my appetite. Can't believe you made me listen to that, I feel like I deserve a cut."

"I'm the one taking it up the arse from strangers!" he called. "And I have to go shopping, this guy sounds posh."

"Fuck's sake Nags, don't give me those kinds of detail, I've told you - that's two months of takeaway. And you're out of luck then, not sure you can get plastic surgery before Monday."

"Well let me know where you went so I can avoid it, they really botched it."

Newt plonked himself back down, this time on the sofa. "Yeah, well, at least I'm not taking it up the arse from some 80-year-old wanker on Monday, he sounded ancient." 

He turned the tv back on, trying his best to contain his curiosity. 

It didn’t work. "...So, like… what exactly is it that you won't do? Wait, no, I don't want to know. I don't. Don't tell me."

"Are you sure? Because I could give you a refresher," Crowley said, picking up a biology textbook from beside the sofa. "It's not that bad once you get used to it."

"Whatever happened to the sweet, innocent boy I met in first year?" Newt went and switched on their Xbox. "No, mate, you can't study straight after that! Come on, let's do Fifa, I'm far too pent up for anything else." He threw a controller at Crowley and pressed his way through the main menu. "You know, erh. Bits of that were, like, weirdly, uh, not that off-putting to listen to. And that's the worst thing about it."

"What, fancy a shag now Newton?" Crowley asked, catching the controller.

"Yeah. From your mum."

"Oh fuck off. I call Brazil."

"Sure, you need the extra help, I think the last time you won was in October or something. Enga-laaaaaaaaaaaaand! Oh, fuck’s sake, swap controllers with me, this one's not working."

"Don't give me the broken one you twat-"

"Fine. Fine, I'll keep this one and still win, you can't play for shits. What are you gonna wear?"

"The away kit. The colours are nicer.”

“I meant for your shag date, you tosser.”

“Oh, erh. Dunno. He wants something tight but not indecent. I dunno whether to like, dress up..."

"Of course you have to dress up Nags, you can't wear a fucking Queen t-shirt to the Ritz or wherever you're going." An electronic crowd let out a massive cheer as 2013 Rooney scored, and Newt actually set the controller down to look at Crowley for a second. “So what d'you think he'd like?"

Crowley groaned. "I dunno. He sounds refined. We're meeting at that fancy Marriott by the Aquarium. He’s getting a room."

"Oh, really? This girl I met when helping out with that international intro day - the American girl, I think I might’ve mentioned her?”

“...Once or twice.”

“Well she had some problem with her visa and couldn’t find a place to rent at first, so she stayed there. She said they have a private gym and pool and fucking spa and everything. Not the worst place to stay over."

"It’s not like I’m staying over, Newt. These guys don’t usually want to have a slumber party," he scoffed. "It’s more… ejaculate and evacuate."

"Oh, ew. ... Come and go?"

"Jizz and jolt."

"Make a deposit and... nah, I've run out.”

A second _ping_ sounded just as Brazil scored an own goal, and Crowley glanced at his phone.

Another work email from - ah. His newest client.

* * *

**From:** maz544@mail.secure.com  
**To:** anthony@secondcircle.com  
**Cc:** bookings.donotreply@secondcircle.com  
**Time:** 12 Mar 2020, 18:23  
**Subject:** Preliminary Meeting Monday 16th March 2020

Dear Anthony,

Thank you for an illuminating conversation. I have booked a suite at the Marriott County Hall and expect the pleasure of your company from 6PM until 11PM. A key will be left for Anthony Smith for the room booked under the name that I mentioned on the telephone.

I will pay for the sample photographs in cash upon your arrival and provide a deposit worth half of the preliminary cost at the beginning of the session. The rest of the payment, as well as any additional charges I may incur, will be handed to you at the end of our session.

Apropos of additional charges, I meant to ask: Do you allow for rough handling? Please rest assured that I will be happy to meet this once even if it is not something you are interested in. If it is something that you offer, is there an additional cost? Many boys like you charge extra for the service. I find added charges for this perfectly acceptable.

Kind regards,

A.

* * *

**From:** anthony@secondcircle.com  
**To:** maz544@mail.secure.com  
**Cc:** bookings.donotreply@secondcircle.com  
**Time:** 12 Mar 2020, 18:27  
**Subject:** RE:Preliminary Meeting Monday 16th March 2020

Hello again A.,

Oh I do.

Within reason, of course. Let’s discuss on monday. 

Sounds like I’ll have fun.

Anthony

* * *

**From:** maz544@mail.secure.com  
**To:** anthony@secondcircle.com  
**Cc:** bookings.donotreply@secondcircle.com  
**Time:** 12 Mar 2020, 18:29  
**Subject:** RE: RE: Preliminary Meeting Monday 16th March 2020

Dear Anthony,

Oh very good.

Kind regards,

A.

P.S. I must ask, what is that on your hip?

* * *

**From:** anthony@secondcircle.com  
**To:** maz544@mail.secure.com  
**Cc:** bookings.donotreply@secondcircle.com  
**Time:** 12 Mar 2020, 18:30  
**Subject:** RE:RE:RE:Preliminary Meeting Monday 16th March 2020

A tattoo. Do you mind?

Anthony

* * *

**From:** maz544@mail.secure.com  
**To:** anthony@secondcircle.com  
**Cc:** bookings.donotreply@secondcircle.com  
**Time:** 12 Mar 2020, 18:31  
**Subject:** RE: RE: Preliminary Meeting Monday 16th March 2020

Dear Anthony,

Not at all. I was merely wondering what it depicts.  
Kind regards,

A.

* * *

**From:** anthony@secondcircle.com  
**To:** maz544@mail.secure.com  
**Cc:** bookings.donotreply@secondcircle.com  
**Time:** 12 Mar 2020, 18:31  
**Subject:** RE:RE:RE:Preliminary Meeting Monday 16th March 2020

You’ll soon find out x

Anthony

* * *

**From:** maz544@mail.secure.com  
**To:** anthony@secondcircle.com  
**Cc:** bookings.donotreply@secondcircle.com  
**Time:** 12 Mar 2020, 18:33  
**Subject:** RE: RE: Preliminary Meeting Monday 16th March 2020

Dear Anthony,

Very well.

I look forward to seeing more of you.

Kind regards,

A.


	2. Brazil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first session begins. Crowley meets his mysterious new client at a swanky London hotel - nothing out of the ordinary, really, he's just as much of a bastard as expected... except that Crowley finds he rather likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is straight-up filth and it is very detailed, and you know, if it's not your thing, don't read. We've listed the trigger warnings we could think of in the end notes - please let us know if you'd like any added. 
> 
> This chapter is the only one which features one thing that could be seen as dubious consent. It's one small thing and more of a miscommunication and we explain it in the end notes.

##### Crowley kicked Newt out of the house early in the morning on Monday. It was always easier to get ready for an appointment without knowing his roommate was just outside, no matter how generally chill Newt was with the whole idea.

With the doors locked, he put on music (recently he had been favouring The Cure), went into the bathroom, and spent a bit taking care of the cleanliness request. It was the least exciting part of getting ready for an evening, tedious even. It was followed with a long, uncomfortably hot shower, then an elaborate skincare routine he had first read about on an online forum and now followed religiously, though it cost quite a bit to import the products. He smeared on a bit of concealer to even out his colour and just a touch of smudged, dark brown eyeliner.

Next were the clothes. Something neat and attractive but not _indecent_. Crowley pulled on black jeans and an attractive grey Henley. He did a few checks in his mirror - everything was fitted, required a few tugs here and there to smooth out. He slipped on his jacket - a women's blazer, Alexander McQueen from several seasons ago. The sleeves were just short enough to be fashionable and he wore a leather bracelet with a snake charm on it - a gift from his little sister. Thin black socks and his favourite black Chelsea boots and he was more or less sorted.

Next he packed his work bag, an old Vivienne Westwood he had gotten secondhand, shiny black leather and large enough to be an overnight bag. Into this went all the usuals: two sizes of condoms, lube, several pairs of latex free gloves, clean knickers and t-shirt, a bit of cash, a phone charger and a paper with emergency numbers on it just in case. 

He paused to text all the information about the evening to Newt - where he was going, what time he expected to be home, and so on. 

He finished off with cologne and his favourite cheap Primark sunglasses and went outside to meet the driver, intending on spending the trip trying to look over his notes from last week’s lecture on his phone but giving up halfway through, unable to ignore the anxiety that came with a first meeting, leg bouncing nervously.

Around 5:45, he arrived at the Marriott, collecting a receipt for the ride and heading inside.

He walked with purpose and a signature sway to his step, knowing the best thing he could do to avert suspicion was to simply look like he belonged wherever he was. He set his bag at his feet at reception and pushed the sunglasses up.

"Evening, a Mr. Wilde left a key for me? I'm Anthony Smith.” 

His heart was racing the way it always did when the first meeting was clandestine. If a client wanted to meet at a cafe or something, at least there were eyes on them. 

The ones that insisted on privacy more often than not had something to hide.

The receptionist, Miranda, raised an eyebrow and gave him a look before she straightened up from the desk. "Of course, Mr. _Smith_." She shuffled through a pile of envelopes. "Room 516, those lifts over there will get you up there... sir. Have a pleasant evening."

"Thank you miss," he smiled, very sweetly, and lowered his sunglasses once more. He took up his bag and paused outside the lift to text Newt:  
  


  
  


Crowley pressed the button and rode to the fifth floor, doing a last minute straightening up in the reflective elevator doors. He had done quite well this time, he thought, and there was that fine line between ‘just right’ and ‘overdressed,’ of course - but he looked good tonight. Always a confidence boost. 

When he reached room 516, he eyed the key in his hand. 

Well. He was given it for a reason. 

Crowley slipped in the keycard and opened the door.

A strikingly blonde middle-aged man sat on a dark sofa at one end of the room.

One leg rested on the other, and his attention appeared to be entirely on a book in his lap. 

He blended in well with his surroundings, dressed in a light blue shirt and a charcoal suit jacket with matching, sharply folded trousers. His jacket was unbuttoned, falling easily at his sides, revealing a splash of dark blue tie tucked into his waistcoat. 

It took several seconds before he recovered a bookmark from the seat beside him and closed the book with a snap. 

"Anthony," he said, checking an actual pocket watch chained to his waistcoat. "You are a little early. Do you not know to knock, my dear?" He finally looked up, eyes meandering slowly up Crowley’s body. He met Crowley's eyes with a slight, satisfied smile. 

"Sorry, wasn't sure if you intended me to wait for you," Crowley said, grateful he had kept the sunglasses on as he took him in. He was handsome, thank god. That always made everything easier. A little stout, perhaps, but secretly Crowley preferred that. He was also relieved to see he was far younger than eighty, although it was hard to pin an exact age. 

"Since the mistake is on me, I won't start charging you until six," he added playfully. He held up his bag. "Do you mind if I set this down? I can show you what's in it or you can check for yourself if you like."

"That’s very kind.” It came out rather sarcastic, muttered darkly in his sharp upper-class accent. “Why don't you bring the bag over here and show me?"

Crowley walked over. "May I join you?" he asked, gesturing at the space beside him.

"You may." 

Crowley sat and finally removed the sunglasses, setting them on the table. 

“Oh you have lovely eyes, Anthony.”

Crowley shot him a coquettish smile, then opened the bag. "Here you go. Just some supplies." He moved the things around a bit so that the man could see there was nothing worrying inside, no knives or anything.  
  
"Ah. And." From his coat pocket he produced the latest result of his testing, from the Tuesday previous.

The man glanced at the result, checked the date, and handed back the sheet of paper. "Very good, my dear, thank you." He got up, flashing a bit of silk lining to pull his own test out from inside his jacket. "There’s mine as promised, I’ve had no sexual encounters since Wednesday last. Would you care for a glass of something? Pick anything you’d like; you'll see all the bottles are unopened, seals intact."

Crowley checked over the printout and returned it to him. No mention of his name...

"Surprise me," he said, watching him. 

He had shockingly blonde, curly hair. Crowley found himself wondering if it were bleached, but quickly decided otherwise. 

Lovely grey eyes, though.

They twinkled just a little when he turned back to look at Crowley. "Oh I _do_ hope to.”

He spent some time at the minibar and finally returned with a bottle of whisky, making a point to break the seal where Crowley could see it. 

"It'll have to be neat, I’m afraid. This Marriott doesn’t have ice in the rooms and I'd have to call for some and, _well_ , I think we ought to have specifics sorted before then." 

“Fine with me, Mr. Wilde. I didn’t come here for the whisky.” He gave his client a very deliberate once-over. He was handsome, filled out a suit nicely, and Crowley would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to enjoying the view when he had been bent over at the minibar.

He was met by a smirk when he looked back up. "That’s just for the bookings, Anthony. I'm Mr. Fell." He held out his glass, ready to clink them.

"A pleasure," Anthony said, toasting him. 

The man in question tutted lightly. “‘A pleasure, _Mr. Fell_ ’, if you would.”

“... _Noted_ , Mr. Fell,” Crowley replied. If that didn’t set the tone for the evening... Clients like this were always a bit of a challenge. He’d have to ramp up the subservience, if he were reading things right. 

_Interesting_. He took a drink. "Well! What are you in the mood for this evening, Mr. Fell? I believe you’re scheduled for five hours."

Mr. Fell remained standing, spoke in a low, deep voice. "I did, yes. Rest assured I don’t expect you to be tending to me for all of it... I like to get to know my boys a little, particularly if we are to set up a more long-term arrangement.”

“I should hope so, Mr. Fell.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself now, boy. I’ve left time for a bit of conversation, as I said, as well as for a quick bite to eat." He ran his eyes across Crowley's spindly frame. "If you're amenable. And of course we’ll have to discuss what exactly I can do to you.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

“Speaking of, you’ll find the deposit in here.” 

Another envelope landed on the coffee table with a heavy little thump. Mr. Fell looked down at him, watching with interest. “You’re welcome to count it out, of course.”

Crowley eyed it. "... perhaps later," he agreed, and for now slipped it unceremoniously into his bag. "... I'm free the rest of the evening, you're welcome to as much time as you like to _get to know me_."

Mr. Fell nodded, free hand in his pocket as he sipped his drink. “I must say, Anthony, you rather undersold yourself in your photographs. They showed you off quite well," - his eyes travelled slowly down him, up again - "but your face is just as much of an asset. Quite on par with the rest of you."

Wow. "Well, lucky you. Consider it a bonus."

"Oh, I do. I think I will have to amend my plans for the evening. I should like to look at your beautiful eyes as much as possible."

“Well what were the plans before?” Anthony asked, smirking.

“Oh, that’s none of your concern now.” He hitched up the loose material of his trousers to sit down again, tipping Crowley just a little closer to him when the couch dipped under him. Mr. Fell sat back, letting his arms fall along the back of the couch. 

He turned towards him with a smile, faintly boyish and playful. “Now, Anthony, you told me on the telephone that your agency has a strict policy on the use of prophylactics… And I understand, of course. Obviously…” He titled his head to the side, added a little hum to his smile. “... _However_ . As for my… conclusion. It is _ever_ so much more fun not to have a sheath in the way, as I’m sure you know all too well…”

Crowley resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, you presented me with a clean bill of health. You can come on me if you like." There was a very nice running tab being formed in Crowley's mind. "Although I require you to warn me before you do."

"Oh - oh, _thank you_.” He smiled politely. Then he stopped. “And if I were to ejactulate onto that pretty little face of yours?”

Crowley felt a little shiver run along his spine. Usually, things like this didn't get him excited. He had seen and heard it all at this point. But Mr. Fell's mannerisms, the politeness with a hint of danger ...

"Seventy-five,” he said coolly. 

" _Very good_." Aziraphale set down his glass, edging just a little closer. He longed to reach out, to feel the gorgeous young man in front of him, to get a better sense of his beautiful body and find out just what he would feel like in his hands, what sorts of wonderful noises could be extracted from him when…

But not yet. Not quite yet. He put one leg on top of the other to hide his excitement.

There were things to get in order first; measures to take to protect them both. "I do have a few additional requests, as I noted in the electronic mail."

Anthony looked at him with those striking golden eyes that he hadn’t expected. He tried to hide his smirk in another sip of whisky, and Aziraphale found he didn’t mind it at all. Not at all. He couldn’t help but smile a little himself. 

"Of course, Mr. Fell. I prefer to know it all ahead of time. Go on?"

“Oh, I’m not looking for anything outrageous, really,” he breezed. “I’m afraid I don’t quite have it in me. All I’m looking for tonight is a bit of hair-pulling, pushing you about a bit, you know... and I think you’d do well with some smacks to that lovely bottom of yours," he chuckled darkly, at himself and at the situation.  
  
“... oh, is that all?” Anthony replied, sounding rather tight. His cheeks took on a lovely shade of pink, and wasn’t that just exquisite _._

Aziraphale swallowed. "... _If_ you should be in need of punishment at all, of course. I would not mind having to do so at all, if you don’t mind. In fact, I should very much _like_ to put you in your place."

"Well. I can be rather cheeky, Mr. Fell."

He smiled to himself. “Oh I should hope so, Anthony. What is your stance on name-calling?”  
  
“... I’ll let you know if it goes too far.”

“Very good, my sweet.” He reached out his fingers, let them brush ever so lightly from Anthony’s bony knee and a little up his thigh. “‘Slut’. ‘Whore’. That type of thing?”  
  
Anthony’s gaze flicked down to his hand and back up again before he answered. “Sounds fairly standard, yes.”

Aziraphale felt a trace of annoyance, though he didn’t let it show. His hand continued until his palm lay flat on the young man’s jeans, perfectly manicured fingertips squeezing in-between his thigh and the couch, spreading his legs apart a bit. "Hm. Now Anthony are you absolutely _certain_ that you require a prophylactic for oral pe-"

" _Yes_ ,” Crowley replied tersely, managing to hold back from frowning at the clear nudging of the boundary, “although as I said earlier, you're welcome to remove it to come on me - you can finish with your hand and masturbate onto me or you can ask that I do it for you. Either way. The same goes for if you wanted to go down on me."  
  
It wasn’t that he was so much of a stickler for rules, really - Crowley had been known to let certain clients go without, if they could prove they were clean and they were willing to slip him a little extra. But frankly, the way Mr. Fell seemed to insistently dance around it was annoying him.

"Oh, very well,” he sighed. “And is that something you might enjoy?”

“What’s that, Mr. Fell?”

“I should like you to enjoy yourself as much as possible, Anthony, if you can.” He sounded almost gentle. “Do you enjoy oral stimulation from your clients? Do you take pleasure in any particular acts, and in these meetings at all? I realise the question is unusual."

Crowley sniffed, shrugged. "Well, I am gay in civilian life as well, Mr. Fell, I’m sure you know not all of us are, necessarily - and I wouldn't do this sort of work if I didn't enjoy it to some degree. I like giving and receiving head, I love to be fucked by someone who knows how to do it right. There are specifics I like, but tonight isn't about me."  
  
What sort of loaded questions were these? It wasn’t any of his business if he liked it or not, he was just here to get off and pay him, as far as Anthony was concerned.

“Good. I’m glad. I do not wish to take advantage…”

Crowley pressed his lips together for a beat, trying not to laugh at the fact that the man willing to pay upwards of _1500 quid_ for a shag was worrying about _him_ enjoying himself. "I'm afraid I'll have to get to know you better before I give away any of my kinks," he smirked.

Mr. Fell tutted disapprovingly, though the thumb drawing circles on Crowley’s thigh didn’t seem to mind at all. “Are you familiar with safe words?"

Crowley smiled thinly. "Let’s go with ‘Brazil’. And I’ll let you know if anything goes too far."

"Very good.” His thigh was pulled a little further from the other to allow Mr. Fell to edge up further up it. “...And if your mouth is full? I suggest three hard taps on the side of my thigh. I promise you I am highly vigilant, but if that should fail, you dig your nails into the back of my knee - as hard as necessary. I won’t mind at all."

"That's very clever, Mr. Fell."

"Thank you, Anthony. If you are at all uncomfortable with proceedings, I want you to let you know immediately. It will not change my opinion of you in the slightest - not at all for the worse in any case.”

Crowley nodded, sat back to allow his hand more room.

“No, I think I should like to look at you now. Stand up - between my legs, please." He held out his hand for support.

Crowley took it and got up from the couch, standing with his hip lazily cocked.

"You _do_ know how to make an impression, dear, these clothes show you off very well. It's a lovely jacket." He lifted it slightly, put his warm hands on Crowley's sides. "Take it off.”

Crowley shrugged off the jacket, tossing it lightly onto the space he had previously occupied on the sofa.

“You get to put it on again for dinner in half an hour." 

"Where are you taking me?" he smiled.

"Oh, just upstairs to the bar for a bit of an interval." Mr. Fell ran his hands slowly down to his hips, round to his arse. "I think it's best we do not drink any more up here, but I think I'll have another drink down there. You are very welcome to have another too, if you’re comfortable doing so." 

“Right.”

"Tell me something about yourself, Anthony. Whatever comes to mind - true or not."

Crowley held his gaze as he was touched. "I had a pet cat as a child named Beelzebub. It was a stray we took in. That sort of thing?"

Mr. Fell frowned at the name, paused his roaming for a moment. "Was the cat quite that bad?" 

"No, only very ugly. She hated everyone in the family but me. She'd wait for me to get home from school every day, like a dog, and only then would she go inside."

He received a chuckle in response, low and deep, and his client lifted his shirt just enough to place a dry, lazy kiss on his stomach. It tickled just a bit. "She sounds like an excellent pet. My, you are a willowy little thing, aren't you. Though rather tall for a boy like you."

"Always have been."

Mr. Fell unbuttoned his jeans, carefully and precisely. "Just waiting for something to fill you up?"

Crowley laughed, resting his hands lightly on Mr. Fell’s shoulders to keep himself steady. "You could say that. Have you got something that could?"

"Mmmm, possibly. How about a nice lobster and a steak down at the bar?" Mr. Fell quipped, tugging Crowley's jeans down to his waist, taking care to leave his underwear in place. "What do you most like about your job, dear? The money, I assume?" He pulled Crowley in a little closer.

"Yes," Anthony said easily. He was half hard, more out of practice than any real arousal. "It allows me a lot of freedom."

"Yes, I hear that a lot." He smiled faintly at Crowley’s arousal, traced his shaft through his boxer briefs with the back of a finger. " _My_ , aren’t you a good boy for me?”

"Yes," Crowley replied, voice a bit lower now that he was being touched. 

Mr. Fell, the bastard, sounded entirely unbothered. “Do you like sucking off rich old men?”  
  
“I must, Mr. Fell.”

"Oh, and I'm sure you're very good at it too,” he allowed, squeezing the head of Crowley’s cock. 

"Would you like to find out?"

"Oh, I _would_ , but you are a very greedy boy, pushing already." He dipped his hand inside Crowley's underwear, pulled at him properly, teasing the foreskin back from his tip. "I like sucking cock too, and yours seems so lovely..." 

Crowley took a shaky breath to regain a bit of control. Mr. Fell’s hands were wide and warm and he knew _just_ how to tease the head. Crowley's erection was genuine now. "Your hands alone are wonderful, Mr. Fell, I don't think I could imagine adding your mouth to this and being able to hold out at all."

Mr. Fell laughed up at him, flushed and perhaps just a _little_ breathy now. "Well, you're very good, my dear, flattering me so. I'm sure you say that to everyone who pays you. But it's charming nonetheless. Keep talking like that and you'll get a reward."

"Keep jacking me off and I'll say anything you like."

"Mmmm, such a good little tart. Would you like to taste my cock, my greedy little slut?"

"I'd love to, Mr. Fell," he murmured. “Would you come for me?”

Aziraphale chuckled. He was _very_ happy with proceedings so far and had no intention of bringing his pre-dinner treat to a fast conclusion at all, though he really _did_ find this new boy very charming. Very charming indeed. "Oh, I’m afraid you won’t have it quite so easy, my dear. You'll have to work for it." He pulled his hand out of Anthony's underwear, satisfied that he was probably at least somewhat enjoying himself. "On your knees."

Anthony dropped down without further ado, looking up with what he was sure was very well-practised veneration.

They looked at each other for a moment, waiting, until Aziraphale tutted.

"Now, now, Anthony. Here I was, thinking you were a professional. And yet here you are, just a greedy, lazy little slut." The words fell easily from his mouth. “A good whore would know to unbutton my trousers for me."

Anthony grinned and moved a little closer. "Is this the promised dinner?" 

Oh, this one was _lovely_ , such a treat, seemed to enjoy himself too. He unhooked the button of his suit trousers with ease and pulled down the zip, shooting Aziraphale a little smile he’d seen on other rentboys a hundred times before. 

He held his breath, waited with his hands behind his back as Anthony slid a hand inside curiously, and... _there_. 

There was the merest pause, the merest hesitation, before the beautiful young man continued to free him. 

Aziraphale smirked. "Do you think it might satisfy you?"

"There's no way it couldn't..." Crowley trailed off, swallowing absently, still groping him through his underwear. 

"It’ll look _lovely_ in your mouth, my dear."

"And I can have it now?" He hooked his fingers in his waistband, waiting for the explicit permission to continue. 

Mr. Fell ran a hand through his hair, scraping gently at his scalp in warning. "Manners, dear..."

Crowley smirked. "What did I tell you? I'm afraid I take a firm hand sometimes. May I?"

Mr. Fell smirked back, gripping his hair. It wasn’t painful at all, not yet anyway. He rolled gently into his hand. "Yes, I’m beginning to think you _do_. Now ask me properly, dear boy, full sentence and please."

Anthony sucked his teeth for a moment and smiled a very rehearsed smile, one used to dealing with the proclivities of strange men with a hold on his head.  
  
"May I _please_ suck your cock, Mr. Fell?"

"Oh, much better, Anthony. _Much_ better. Of course you may. Nice and slow, make a show of it, there's a good boy."

Crowley expertly maneuvered his hand in Mr. Fell’s loose suit trousers and pulled him free, a brief and unreadable expression passing over his face, glancing up at the man. With his gaze still locked on Mr. Fell as requested, he slowly slipped his tongue up the shaft and over the salty head, teasing.

Mr. Fell sighed and let go of his hair, sitting back on the sofa to enjoy the show. "Oh, that is _very_ good, Anthony, you look like temptation itself.” 

He smiled benignly as if offering the greatest treat. “Go on, have a proper taste."

Crowley steadied his cock at the base, long fingers barely closing around him, and leaned in to take him into his mouth. He gave him another lick just to wet him further before he closed around his twitching prick, never looking away, grateful he’d been requested to go slowly as he wasn't sure he could _do_ this any fucking faster.

Oh it was _very_ hard not to push into him, into that hot, wet delight; to let him take his time and adjust.

Luckily Aziraphale had always enjoyed it, this sweet, delicious ache; this delay of his urges, the discipline it took to deny himself. He’d learnt to be very patient over the years, to focus on his breathing.

"You look lovely, my dear, utterly debauched. Stay just like that for a moment, please." 

The young man did as he was told, pausing with his mouth stretched beautifully around his wide head. _So very good._ Aziraphale smiled and reached out, lazily, tracing the ridge of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose. The thin ring of his lips where they joined with him. "Is that nice, Anthony? One squeeze of my thigh for no, two for yes, please."

One squeeze.

Then the boy ran his tongue along the underside and gave him a second, harder squeeze, cheekily. 

Aziraphale felt a flush of pleasure at the audacity.

He really was exquisite, from his striking red hair to his bright eyes, lively and playful as they looked up at him. 

He ran his hands up to his ears, traced the tops of them, and took a deep breath to steady himself. "You are quite a tease, aren't you, sweet thing? And while it is utterly charming, I’m afraid I can’t allow such liberties this early on. I'm going to show you how it is done and push in instead. Is that something you might like? Same system."

Anthony squeezed his knee twice again. 

Aziraphale held him in place, gripped the hair at the back of his skull as he pushed in bit by bit, feeling every hard, stuttered exhale from his nose, every struggle to adjust to him. 

Then he forced himself to halt, wait, squeezed and wet and _achingly_ aroused, quite obscene halfway into the young man’s mouth. 

"Ah. Oh, you look _beautiful_ , my dear. Are you comfortable?"

Another two squeezes. 

Fuck. Fuck, okay. This was an _ordeal._

Crowley carefully, subtly adjusted to accommodate Mr. Fell as he pushed into him, keeping his tongue flush with the underside of his cock but otherwise staying still, hands on the man's thighs, still looking up at him as flirtatiously as possible.

He noted with stubborn satisfaction that Mr. Fell breathed heavier now; waistcoat heaving over his broad chest with every inhale, the exposed bit of his soft stomach emanating warmth as Crowley got closer and closer. 

He was hairy but neat, and clean from what he could make out, which was always a bonus, a darker blonde here than the almost white curls on his head. 

He said nothing for a while, and when he did, his voice came out deep and sharp and almost entirely unaffected. 

Pretty impressive, really. And a bit annoying. 

"I would like you to take me as deep as you can now, please, in your own time."

Crowley gave him two squeezes for good measure and began to slowly move back and forth on his prick, each time taking another fraction into his mouth. He would draw back to the tip, circle him with his tongue while stroking upward with his hand the way most guys liked it, then slip back down a tiny bit further each time, all the while doing his best to keep his eyes on Mr. Fell's face. 

It wasn't a bad face at all, in fact he looked quite kind despite the hint of something a little more feral behind the dark, sharp eyes smiling benignly down at him.

"That's it, my boy, _thaaat's it_ . Just the ticket. Ooo, I'll have to be careful with you, keep myself in line." He ran his soft hands through his hair, pulling but never pushing, letting Crowley set the pace. "You make it very difficult to keep still, dear - _aaah_ \- deliciously so.”

The grip in his hair suddenly grew firm, stopped Crowley from moving forward. “I must confess, my dear, I want nothing more at this moment than to push myself as deep into your throat as you can take me..."

Crowley squeezed his knee twice again. He had worked him in fairly far at this point, and the man had already said he wanted to be rough. He was in a good position, didn't think he would choke...

“Very good.” Mr. Fell pushed in without another word, carefully but insistently until his fat head prodded at the back of his throat. 

Crowley very nearly gagged but held it together, taking a deep breath, eyes watering. He blinked it stubbornly away.

He was held there for a second or two, Mr. Fell breathing hard and finally squeezing his eyes shut, the grip in his hair tight enough to be noticeable now.

Then he was pulled back by his hair, all the way off of him and finally allowed to take a deep breath, cock jutting heavy between them, wet with Crowley’s saliva. "Good boy." 

Crowley pressed his lips together for a movement, flexing his jaw, and looked up at him with a small, sweet smile. "Is that all I get...?"

Mr. Fell kept a hand tight in his hair, moved the other down to feel his throat. "Would you like some more?"

"Am I not being obvious enough?" Crowley asked, with a quick, hungry glance at his prick.

"Use your words, my dear."

Crowley leaned in closer to his cock, hands on his thick thighs, watching his face and waiting. "I want more, Mr. Fell."

" _Anthony_ ," Mr. Fell tutted, smirking down at him. "I told you to mind your manners, did I not?" 

There was a sharp, sudden pain at the back of his scalp and then his head was flush against Fell’s thigh, his cock poking warm and rubbery at his throat. "Whatever shall I do with you, hmm?" he murmured, brushing a thumb down Crowley’s cheek.

"Apologies, Mr. Fell," he replied with just a little bit of snark. "May I - _please_ \- taste your cock again?"

"Much better, Anthony." He lifted him up by his hair, gripping right at the roots to make it less painful, and leant over to him, pressing a kiss just to the left of his mouth, moved back to look him in the eye. "It simply isn't quite as fun with a rubber involved, is it? Which is no fault of yours. You take me very well, dear."

"It's easy to do," Crowley replied silkily, calm despite the firm grip on his hair, just to watch his mild little smirk disappear. It grew a little more amused instead. _Bastard_. "Please let me suck you off so that you can come on me."

"Hmmm." Mr. Fell traced his lips, looked at him with sparkling grey eyes. "I'm not so certain you deserve your reward just yet, my dear, you're being _far_ too demanding, and I'd like to get my money’s worth. You are far from cheap after all. I think perhaps..." he glanced around the room, gripping Crowley's hair again. "...yes." 

He pulled Crowley off his thigh and got up, bringing Crowley's head back to make him look up at him. "Stand up."

Crowley stood carefully, letting Mr. Fell adjust his hold on him as he did.

And then he found himself yanked away from the sofa and into the nearest corner of the room. 

"Down on your knees again here in front of me, please, Anthony, against the wall."

Crowley got back down into position with a hesitant glance back at the wall, then turned to look up at him in anticipation, trying to find a comfortable position on his knees... "Is this good, Mr. Fell?"

"Shut up and open your mouth, dear."

Crowley flashed him a grin and opened his mouth expectantly.

Crowley found himself yanked forward again, treated to a faceful of warm, musky balls. Hairs tickled at his lips and nose when he tried to move back. "Would you like to play with my testicles too, Anthony?"

In response, Crowley closed his eyes with a little hum and licked them, taking one into his mouth and sucking gently.

A little groan escaped his client, though he pulled at his hair in warning. "I expect an answer when I ask you a question."

Crowley grabbed his thigh twice.

" _No_." Mr. Fell tutted and pulled him off, letting go of his prick to do so. It fell on to Crowley's face instead, across his cheek and close to his eye, and Mr. Fell let it stay there, taking hold of it to wipe it slowly across his face. "Answer me properly when I ask you a question. Your mouth is full when I decide that it is."

Crowley made a face as the damp condom slid across his face. It didn't actually bother him - he'd dealt with worse - but it looked good to pretend it did. "Yes, Mr. Fell.”

Mr. Fell slapped his cheek with his cock, resulting in a satisfying little smack. "I believe you owe me an apology."

Crowley hardly flinched. "I'm sorry I didn't answer you right away, Mr. Fell," he said lowly. "May I resume, please? It won't happen again."

"Very well. Might I remind you that you have hands too, Anthony. I expect more attentive service from such an expensive whore." He let his shaft fall onto Anthony's face again, rolling his hips to drag it slowly back and forth, balls hitting Anthony's chin. His hands gripped his hair again, holding him in place.

What an arsehole.

Crowley kind of liked it.

With one hand on the man's thigh, he brought his balls into his mouth again - or partially, at least, as they were pleasantly proportionate to the massive fucking cock resting on his face. His free hand teased his sack, occasionally slipping back to brush lightly across his taint. The musky scent and taste was delicious, but he'd never let on, despite the pleasurable groan around his balls. 

Finally, fucking _finally_ , his client’s head fell back, eyes half-closed, and he let his hips roll sluggishly as Crowley worked him, taking care with this sensitive part of him. 

"Put some effort into it, boy, I'm not a porcelain doll."

 _Alright then_. There was a definite strain to his posh-twat voice now, and Crowley sucked a little rougher, occasionally switching between sides, fondling his wet sack with his hand. He squeezed gently at his balls and pulled them down to his tongue, licking them, delighting in how heavy and full they felt against him until saliva ran down his chin. Glancing up at him, mouth full, he moved his other hand tentatively to the base of his cock, questioning.

"Did I tell you to touch my cock?"

Aziraphale watched with just a touch of amusement amid his throbbing arousal as Anthony withdrew his hand again, burying his face in the crook between his cock and balls, nuzzling against his sack.

It was much more of a struggle to stay in character by now, though he was well practised.

"I don't, _ah_ , I do not believe I heard an apology. It should not be this difficult, Anthony." He pushed him away until the back of Anthony’s head hit the wall, looking down at him. "But you are very good with your mouth, at least."

A trail of saliva connected his mouth to Aziraphale’s sack as he spoke, and Aziraphale had to look away from his moment to keep in control of himself. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fell. I touched your cock when I hadn't been told to do so. May I continue?"

"Oh, I believe I paid you a compliment, too, boy." He caught the strand of saliva on his thumb and smeared it across Anthony's soft cheek. "I didn't hear a thank you."

It took him a sullen, stubborn moment before his face lit up again and he smiled as politely as ever. "... _Thank_ _you_.”

 _Gorgeous_. He knew already that he’d liked to see this one again.

"Thank you...?"

"... thank you for the compliment, Mr. Fell," Anthony managed, just as coyly as the first time. His bottom lip was damp and slightly swollen, the streak of saliva across his cheekbone catching the light as he sat, waiting for acknowledgement.

"Oh yes, that's _much_ better, Anthony, thank _you_ . Now open up your mouth again, please, stick out your tongue, I’m going to have you again. You may _now_ answer through one or two squeezes of my thigh." He let his ballsack rest on Crowley's tongue. "Do you like when I tell you what a good little whore you are?"

Anthony squeezed his leg twice. Fuck it, he really did.

"Very good. You are a _very_ good little slut, aren't you?"

Anthony slipped his tongue up over his balls, letting out a muffled " _yes, I am_."

"Ah," he sighed, far more performatively than his previous ones. "I told you to squeeze my leg, did I not, while I used your tongue for my pleasure?"

"I'm sorry, _maybe_ you could be a little more explicit in your instructions.” _You dirty old bastard_.

Mr. Fell pulled at Crowley's hair, forcing him to look up at him. "Maybe you should put your mouth to better use than to run it off when it is not required."

"... of course Mr. Fell. How would you prefer me to use it?"

"Well, I expect an apology of course, and then stick out your tongue again until you get the hang of it, boy.”

"I apologize for speaking out of turn, Mr. Fell,” he smiled, and obediently opened his mouth again, sticking out his tongue.

"Oh very good, my dear. Perhaps positive reinforcement works better for you." He gripped his shaft, placed himself on Crowley’s outstretched tongue and held still for a moment, humming gently as he brushed Crowley's hair back from his forehead. "Let's try with a reward instead." And then he pushed himself in again, fast and rough, hand guiding his cock as he pressed on...

Crowley dutifully tilted his head and let him slide in even further, vaguely proud that he didn’t gag at all this time and slightly hating that he _was_ proud, that he _delighted_ in the praise that he got. Delightedly, the boy kept his eyes on him, though Aziraphale noted he looked slightly dazed as he pushed his cock into his mouth. No matter. Anthony tilted his head and let him slide in even further, deeper into his mouth.

He did and _would_ take professional pride in how out of breath the posh wanker sounded by now. "Oh, you are a pretty little thing, taking a nice big cock so well. Let's see how far back we can go, hmm? Remember, squeeze my thigh if you can't take anymore."  
  
Two squeezes and as much of a breath as Crowley could manage, and then he pressed his fat cock forward and Crowley’s head hit the wall again and he felt him at the back of his throat and further, _fuck_ , fuller than he’d ever been like this, and it was heaven, it was fucking heaven when the man stilled and brushed his hand through his hand and kept him there.

"That's it, my dear, aren’t you a sight so nice and full, hmmm? Look at me, please."

Crowley, breathing very slowly so that he didn't gag, stared up at him. His chest was heaving.

“Very good.” 

And then he could breathe again, properly, as Mr. Fell slowly pulled back out.

"Take a nice deep breath, Anthony, you're doing very well," he said with a smirk, face flushed. He held Anthony's face up against his soft waistcoat, stroking his hair. "When did you first give head, my dear?"

Crowley took a few steadying breaths as the man cradled him to him, voice rough when he managed to speak. "... I was nineteen. Late bloomer."

"Oh, I was much older than that myself. And what do you think of my cock, dear boy?"

"If you'll allow it later, I'm looking forward to having it in me, Mr. Fell," he replied. 

He felt Mr. Fell’s chuckle on the side of his head. "Oh, I think that can be arranged, if you're very good for me. Now, would you like me down your throat again, Anthony?"

"I would love that, Mr. Fell."

Mr. Fell stilled the hand stroking his hair, humming playfully. "Manners, Anthony."

"Please put your cock down my throat."

"Mr. Fell."

_Fuck’s sake._

"Please put your cock down my throat, Mr. Fell."

"Oh, very good, my beautiful little slut. I will, since you ask so prettily." Mr. Fell positioned him up against the wall again, smiled down at him.

Crowley looked up at him, steeling himself once more, parting his bruised lips slightly in anticipation.

And then his wide, flared head was on Anthony's bottom lip, dipping into his mouth just slightly, pressing against the soft side of Anthony's mouth. He pushed in just a little further until he pressed against the roof of his mouth. And then he paused, and pulled back out. 

“You know, I don’t believe I heard a ‘thank you’,” he noted very casually, smearing the new saliva onto Anthony's swollen lips as he spoke.

Anthony swallowed and grit his teeth. "Thank you for giving me your cock again, _Mr. Fell_." He was learning, at least.

"Oh, Anthony," Mr. Fell cradled his skull with one hand, "you are so very welcome," he breathed, and pushed in, faster but controlled, all the way, Jesus fucking Christ, and then back out again, keeping just his tip in Crowley’s mouth.

"Next time, I would like you to swallow around me, dear boy. Is that something you can do? Two squeezes is a yes."

Crowley squeezed his thigh twice.

Then he was suddenly full again, cock as far down Crowley’s throat as it would go.

Crowley only choked around him a tiny bit, eyes wet again, his grip growing tighter on Mr. Fell’s leg as he adjusted.

 _Fuck_ \- Mr. Fell pulled out immediately, as fast as he could without being careless. "Was that a no squeeze, my dear?" He looked genuinely concerned.

"No, Mr. Fell," he gasped. "I'm sorry, I was only bracing myself. I'm sorry. Please."

Mr. Fell looked down at him with what looked like almost genuine fondness, wiping away a bit of saliva from his lip. "No need to be sorry at all, my dear. In fact, I ought to be apologising - perhaps we should say that if you want me to stop, you simply dig your fingernails into the back of my knee immediately. That should be more clear. How does that sound?"

Crowley, slightly taken aback by Mr. Fell’s self-awareness, nodded. "... yes, that will work fine, Mr. Fell. Please continue?" he asked, sitting back once more.

"Oh, I will, dear boy." Mr. Fell kept smiling down at him, speaking gently, playfully. “Now give me your hand, please, and open up."

Crowley placed his hand gingerly in the man's, tilted his head and opened his mouth.

"Sit still for me, please." Mr Fell pushed himself in once more, less ceremoniously. When he was securely inside his mouth, he shuffled closer slowly, Crowley having to quickly adjust as Mr. Fell leaned in to brace himself on the wall behind him, his soft stomach gently butting against his forehead. 

Crowley couldn't help but shudder at the way he was pinned there against the wall with a huge fucking cock down his throat, pubes and an expensive shirt and his soft stomach in his face. He ran his tongue along the shaft as an experiment, to see if he could, as Mr. Fell controlled the pace, letting his eyes close. Mr. Fell couldn’t see them right now, anyway.

"Oh, yes, that's very good, boy," Mr. Fell gasped above him. "Now, I'm - _ah_ \- I’m going to up the pace and take your lovely little mouth properly, and you will sit there and take it. When I pull out, you will thank me. Understood? Thigh squeezes, please."

Crowley squeezed his leg twice, distractedly. He braced himself, straining in his own tight trousers, half-dazed and _aching_ to touch himself for once.

"Thank you, dear." Mr. Fell pulled out halfway, pushed back in. "Swallow please."

With some difficulty, Crowley swallowed thickly around his cock, feeling it press against the roof of his mouth and throat as it contracted. He shuddered a bit with the effort it took not to gag, his breathing stuttering, whining despite himself. 

" _Aaaah_." Aziraphale grabbed on to Anthony's hair, losing just an edge of his self-discipline. There were very few sensations better than this, more debauched and exquisite, and it was quite rare that he got to enjoy it. He started rutting back and forth, shallow little thrusts at the back of the young man's throat, delighting in the keens, the gurgles that came from every push now. 

"Mnnngh, oh, you are very accommo- very accommodating, my dear, _aaah_ , I would _so_ love to feel you properly, to - oh to spill down your throat. I- I would pay very handsomely for the pleasure, I assure you-uu." 

He received no reply, hadn’t expected on either. "Look- look at me as I take you, like a good little tart," he stuttered, cock ramming against the back of his throat.

Anthony raised his slightly unfocused gaze to him with a moan, pulling him in by his thighs as he fucked his mouth, upper body slamming back against the wall repeatedly in time, and he was good, he was _very_ good, this boy, and Aziraphale longed for more of him, pressed him into the wall until he was flush up against his stomach, cock squeezed _exquisitely,_ unbearingly deep down his throat as he gasped, waited, held him there to see if Anthony could take it. He shivered in his grip, the beautiful young man holding him deep in his throat, watching him with stubborn eyes and flushed cheeks.

Aziraphale found himself the first to relent, breathing hard. "Oh, you- you _clever_ little thing, yes, _yes_ , just like that, just so, _oh_. Now one, one last swallow, I think, and I'll have to pull you off, my dear, or you won't be getting your £75."

Anthony’s tongue slid down his shaft and it almost ended him right there, disappeared deeper into his mouth again as he swallowed hard around his prick and Aziraphale jerked into him entirely unintentionally. "Oh, good- good _Lord_ Anthony, that's quite enough of that." He pulled him off, roughly, by his hair, he _had_ to and he wanted to.

Crowley gasped as the cock was pulled from his throat, coughed slightly, then looked up, dutiful, remembering the earlier request. Demand, really. It took him a moment to speak at all, to catch his breath and clear his throat. "Thank you- _thank you_ for letting me have your cock again, Mr. Fell."

The man smiled down at him, ran his thumb along his glistening lower lip. "You're welcome, Anthony. How are you feeling?"

"Bit empty without you, Mr. Fell," Crowley quipped breathlessly. He was hard hard as a fucking rock - this guy was surprisingly kinky and he was, he was fucking full-out _enjoying himself_.

Mr. Fell smiled at the answer. "Ah, yes, well. That could be arranged, dear boy, I was quite serious. 200 pounds extra, and you can be full of me very- _very_ soon indeed."

Crowley hesitated. 

This man clearly had money to burn.

He was clean.

And if he had that kind of cash to throw around, well, he wanted to keep him on as a client as long as he could. Which, of course, meant making certain accommodations.

"... all right, Mr. Fell. Just have to warn me when you’re about to come. Would you like me to remove the condom for you?"

"Oh, thank you, dear. If you would." He stood out absurdly between them, hard and twitching, dark and pink beneath the stretched whitish rubber.

Crowley pulled it off carefully and let it drop to the floor. _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck_ he was fucking _salivating._ "May I lick off the precome Mr. Fell?"

Mr. Fell gasped. "Oh, I should like that very much, my dear."

Crowley took his prick in his hand and ran his tongue along the musky, swollen head, keeping it wide and flat, circling around where the head met the shaft to clean up what had been pushed around inside the condom, just about managing not to moan around him. 

Then he sat back. "Thank you Mr. Fell ... Would you like to finish in my mouth now?" He was flushed and hot and found that he fucking _wanted it._

"Oh, you look beautifully debauched like this, I could almost think you're actually eager for me. Would you like to suck me to completion?"

"I would _love_ to, Mr. Fell. May I?"

"Oh yes, you _may_ , dear boy, since you ask so nicely."

The boy groaned softly around him as he pushed in, as though he couldn't get enough fast enough, and it was _divine_. Aziraphale managed a quick glance upwards and a fast, half-hearted apology, distracted halfway through by a deep, loud moan from the boy.

"Oh, no- no need for _ah_ for such theatrics," he chuckled, dripping with sweat as that familiar, _wonderful_ pressure grew, more and more urgent with the boy’s skilled tongue and mouth and hand, spreading from his groin to his stomach, and threatening to spill, and then the boy gave a hard suck and Aziraphale moaned and at a mad split second’s decision he pulled out, left his mouth bereft and the boy groaning and he managed to gasp a quick "close your eyes, dear," _throbbing_ , sack firming up in this wonderful boy's hand and he caught hold of himself - “I said close your eyes- _now_ ” - and he _did_ just in time and Aziraphale aimed at his face and lost it not a second after and pulsed long, hot streaks of white onto his eyelid, his cheek, his open, gasping mouth.

There was a beat, a very still silence. 

Crowley’s ears rung. He opened the eye that wasn't covered in come. "Hmm. Thank you Mr. Fell," he said lowly, smiling.

"Oh, you're- you’re welcome, Anthony," he panted, flushed, chest heaving, cleaning off the wet, warm tip of his cock on Crowley's cheek. 

He let go of himself to drag a careful thumb across his eyelid, drying it off again on a clean bit of cheek, catching his breath. "I assume- I assume the offer to climax down your throat will still be available at our next session. If you're interested in booking one in." 

"I believe you're the one doing the booking, Mr. Fell," Crowley replied absently, leaning over to wipe the rest of the come from his tightly closed eye.

"Oh, I would very much like to, dear, but you have every right to cancel if you do not like our session tonight." Mr. Fell looked down himself to tuck his waning cock back into his trousers. “How are you feeling?”

“Very good, Mr. Fell.”

Fell watched him closely for a moment, every visible patch of skin splotched pink with exertion. “Very well then. I must say, I enjoy you very much already. But we can discuss details over dinner," he said distractedly, checking his pocket watch and looking back down at Anthony as if seeing him for the first time. 

"Now clean up your face, you look positively filthy." He took a step back, buttoned up his jacket with one hand and offered Crowley his other. "Dinner began one minute ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the one instance of dubious consent is that they eventually agree to Aziraphale coming down Crowley's throat, having previously agreed on a lovely facial. Crowley has told him to warn him in time. In a delirious last-second decision, Aziraphale pulls out and, erh, comes on his face instead with only just enough warning for him to shut his eyes. 
> 
> This will be addressed in the next chapter.
> 
> Trigger warnings for Chapter 2: prostitution, alcohol, 'boy' used in a sexual context and light power play situation between two consenting adults with an age gap, light discipline/punishment, consensual hair-pulling, name calling/derogatory language used consensually, graphic depictions of sexual acts, saliva, semen, dom/sub, light bdsm, age gap, facial, throat-fucking

**Author's Note:**

> We started this several months ago (July 2020) as a bit of fun, writing it between the two of us, each writing for different characters. WELL, it turned into a surprisingly good (and sweet and v. filthy) story, and we got heavily invested in these characters - Crowley, Aziraphale, and a whole host of others - and by now, we've written A LOT. So we thought we'd edit it into fic format (loosely) and share it with the world in case others thought so too. We'll see how it does and if people like it, we'll publish more.
> 
> Chapter TWs: Smoking.


End file.
